


A Test of Fortitude

by MissQuill



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Mojo, Angels, Angst, Big Brother Dean, Big Brother Gabriel, Big Brother Michael, Castiel Whump, Childishness, Children, Crazy Castiel, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hatred, Heaven, Hospitalization, Hurt, Hurt Castiel, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Madness, Mental Anguish, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Michael Being A Dick, Molestation, New Angel, Nice Gabriel, Nice Sam, Platonic-relationsip, Possessive Castiel, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Power Imbalance, Pre-Series, Protection, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Michael, Punishment, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Retribution, Safe Haven, Sassy Death, Scared Castiel, Self-Hatred, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation, Zachariah Being a Dick, clueless, naive!Cas, smiting, trial
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-01-23 18:38:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 20,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1575530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissQuill/pseuds/MissQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Through decades of existance, Castiel experienced many things. Through an equal number of decades Zachariah watched him. In a moment of raw hatred and bliss, an action is taken leaving Castiel lost in an abyss he hadn't wanted to experience. After Months of torment and agony, the Angel begins to show himself to his friends, is it however too soon to accept the past, or are the shreds that litte his path too obvious for even the Angel to walk away from?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> !!!ATTENTION!!! PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE CONTINUING ON WITH THE STORY !!!ATTENTION!!!
> 
> This story is the defination of undone. Chapters will be moved, edited and made to fit as this originally was me just writing. It was pointed out to me by Insanitycrime that by not orginising it properly it made me appear unable to write co-herently. Or somethign such as, eitherway I realise he/she was correct and have thus collected all of my now 19 stories into one large one and will be adding and changing it as I go. I don't know where this story will end, however I hope you all enjoy it, and I thank old and new readers for their continued support through this process. Thank you :)

As Dean tapped the wheel on the Impala he started to sing along with Spirits in the Sky. He loved this song, although not as much as he did Eye of the Tiger or Carry on Wardward Son. Still, as he listened and kept tapping the wheel he couldn't help but relax about the situation at hand. His father had vanished on a hunting trip, and he now needed to find him. Because something was clearly not right about this. As he looked into the long road ahead of him he saw someone staggering next to the road. They seemingly tripped and didn't get back up, Dean frowned and began to stop the car. 

'Hey, man! You alright?' He shouted through the passenger seat window. Not seeing movement, he got out and walk in front of the car's bonnet. Peering at the man, he believed he was at least in his fifties. 'Hey!' He shouted, shaking the man. He had a gun within grabbing distance but from what he could see this man was a human. Hey! Whoa!' As he shook the man again he felt a sudden force push him away, and the older man rose gingerly to his feet. Dean held his gun tightly, his eyes wide with surprise and suspicion. 'You okay, bro?' he asked, holding his hand out in case the man would fall again. He swayed in his spot instead. Looking quite confused, the man locked his dark blue eyes upon Dean, as if he was reading his very DNA. 'Where am I?'

Dean sighed and looked up, peering at the map he had in the seat next to his. 'You my friend, are about thirty miles away from San Jose.' As he said that he stepped back to grab a water bottle he had with him. 'Do you need a drink? You took quite a fall there. Where did you come from anyway? Unless there is a rockin party out here that I did not know about, this place is kinda in the middle of no where...' As he said those words, Dean began to really wonder how this elderly man had managed to get himself here without a car. 'Sir?' he asked, as the man bent over, putting his hand son his knees as if he were to be ill. 'Sir, do you need me to call an ambulance?' He didn't have time for this.

'No... No I am alright.' His voice was rough, like he'd been screaming or shouting for a long time. It sounded sore. 'Have some water.' Dean said, offering up his water bottle. The elderly man however rose up and peered at Dean curiously. 'How is it that you have managed to procure such a vehicle?' The young hunter turned his head to the Impala and smirked, feeling some pride swell in his chest. Before he got to answer however, he felt the old man tap his chest sharply. 'Pride is a sin, sins are what cast you down to the pits of hell.' 

Okay?

'Sure, man... sure. Look, why don't you just get into the seat and I'll drive you to the nearest hospital?' This couldn't be that bad, Dean thought, as the man looked at the passenger seat of the car. He then looked back at Dean with a very confused facial expression. 

'How am I to open that...?' he asked tentatively, as he pointed at the door to the passenger seat. Briefly, Dean wondered if this man was perhaps retarded, or at least very, very secluded. He didn't look either though, so he decided he must in some way be adequately drunk. 'Sure... let me get that for you.' He said, flashing a smile at the olderman. Taking the doorhandle he swung the door open, allowing the man to step into the car effortlessly. Dean closed it again and noted the man's continued confused expression, as if he had never seen a car before.

Getting into the drivers seat, Dean let his eyes wonder to the completely still man. 'So... What is your name?' He asked, starting the engine. The man turned his head stiffly and watched Dean as he drove out onto the road again. 'I believe his name is Gregory.' The young hunter looked at the man very briefly, feeling slightly uneasy. 'Say... are there any fairies in your head?' he asked jokingly, watching for a reaction. All he saw was more confusion. 'Pardon? I am not a fairy... I am an angel of the Lord.' This made Dean's heart jump. 'Angel?' Well... alright then. 'If you are an Angel, why am I now driving you to the nearest hospital?' The angel named Gregory looked at him as if he was the most complex being in the world. 'I do not understand. Did you not offer to drive me there?' 

Dean said nothing, he just kept driving, because in the end that was all he could do for this crazy person next to him. 

As the trees spread past them and they entered a more populated area, Dean couldn't help but take small peeks at the man sitting next to him. His face looked war-torn, wary... his eyes held years and years of wisdom and yet, Dean could not help but wonder what made this man appear so, silly. The road was longer than it'd ever been, the silence growing with each passing mile. They stayed silent, as if it were a gift best kept precious. The music on the radio was low, quiet in the background. 

Silence. Dean let a smile touch his lips, his eyes closing softly over and over. He saw bright lights ahead, he saw a big red cross. He smiled as he saw the hospital up ahead. It would be over soon, he would be with his baby brother again. His eyes felt heavy, his chest tight. Gregory sat next to him, his body still unmoving and callous. He wanted to bow down on the wheel and sleep. The peaceful silence finally grasping his consciousness. Something stopped him though, a voice in the back of his head, telling him not to sleep, that it would soon pass. 

He slowed down the closer they got to the hospital. The man next to him was static. So very, very static. He stopped outside the hospital, and lent back into the soft seat behind him. 'Here you go man...' he said, his head lolling to the side as he lay there. He heard the door open, he heard it close. Then he heard the voice clearly in the back of his head just as he dropped from consciousness. 

'I thank you, Dean.'

When did he tell the elderly man his name?


	2. 2

Although walking through another person's heaven was not something he did often, he would occasionally take the time to do so. If anything just to see if the person was getting what they worked hard to achieve.

Castiel was sitting in a garden. It was circular. Wisteria trees would stop you from leaving. A pond was close by. It was huge, but it was big enough for some time to pass while you walked around it. Not too long though. He had often wondered who this person was, because he had been in this piece of heaven before, but he had never seen the soul that had earned it. The young angel hated to admit it, but this was his favourite place to be. Why? Because no matter what had happened, the soul who had this piece of heaven, was always welcoming. Even though they had never met. He wondered if that would ever change.

He sat on a stone bench, peering at the wisteria seeds that floated in the pond. It was nice, he thought, that someone would take the time to have one specific heaven, not ever changing and constantly moving. It was a pillar for him in a way. When everything had started to collapse for him, he would enter this small piece of heaven and sit on the stone bench in silence, until he felt safe once more. It was happened more and more recently, and more and more did he want to see the one who ha d this piece of heaven. Closing his eyes, a gentle breeze pushed his hair.

It felt right being here now. Whenever he returned he did not see his brothers first, he would come here. To this piece of heaven, whomever it may belong to.

There was a sweet smell to the wind, and Cas opened his bright blue eyes to stare into the dark green ones. A girl stood behind them, with soft auburn curls obscuring part of her face. She smiled softly at him, sitting down next to him. Castiel shifted nervously. He wasn't sure she wanted him here, but as the silence continued on and they said nothing to each other, the angel opted to stay with her. Just for the sake of knowing who the soul was.

As the time stretched on, he caught himself peering at the soul more and more, until finally she spoke, her eyes never lifting from her view of the Wisteria they surrounded them. 'Amhi.' She said, as if it was the answer to all of Castiel's questions. And in a way, he felt it was. He turned his head fully now and peered at the girl curiously. 'Are you not confused as to why I am here?' He questioned as nicely as he could. Amhi simply shook her head. 'You are an Angel, a warrior of our lord, but that does not mean that you do not need your own piece. I've seen you before here, I just thought you wanted peace and quiet from your heavenly duties.' It was a simple thing to say really, and she was not wrong. Castiel kept looking at her though, wanting to hear more of the sweet voice of her's

Amhi, a name he'd heard before. Although not a biblical name it sounded very familiar. 'Does your name mean Mother?' he asked, feeling wind touch him again. Amhi turned to him, gentle eyes and movements. 'Yes, it does. Irony really... as I never got the opportunity.' A sad smile crossed her lips, and Castiel felt the need to know more. Before he asked, Amhi continued speaking. 'I died in childbirth over a hundred years ago. So much time has passed, and it makes me happy knowing that women are now safe.' A child's laughter was heard through the plants that grew in the garden. Castiel's head snapped around, as he'd never heard it before. Amhi however giggled and rose to her feet. Her long white dress flowing around her ankles. 'I was lucky, however...' she whispered, and held a child in her arms.

Castiel and her sat in silence once more. Amhi humming softly rocking the child in her arms. They sat there in extended silence for a while. The soft humming stopped suddenly, and Castiel opened his eyes. His head was in Amhi's lap, and she was stroking his hair lovingly. 'The angels want you back, Castiel...' she whispered, her eyes sad, and lonely.  
Castiel rose up, and watched the sad soul in front of him. 'I will return, Amhi.' He said quietly, his sharp blue eyes lighting up at the prospect. Amhi simply smiled, and vanished in front of him.

He was alone once more. Rising to his feet, the angel breathed in the soft air and gentle smell. He'd miss this little piece of heaven, for however long he was away.


	3. Chapter 3

A final thought, maybe even a final solution. The angels where never sure what their next order would be. It could be anything, it could be to purge a country, or to purge a single person. Any soul was at risk, any person could drop for their sake. An angel was not just a warrior. They were the definition of fear in some ways. They were the absolute end, they were the gods of life and death. Death the Horseman may ride through their skies during the apocalypse, but in the end it was they who decided who lived and who died.

This was how they managed to reclaim themselves so many times. Their legacy was a power to stand above all creatures, even the apocalypse itself. They were Kings, and yet... somewhere, angels would rebel, and they would lose some of their power, some of their superiority. Angels would fall and rise again, leaving behind a mark on humanity that they could be weak. He hated it, he hated one in particular. He had caused such difficulty, such misery for him and his brothers. Walking through the clean halls, Zachariah stalked the shadows ahead of him, his eyes hollow and gaunt. If they had anything in them, one could claim it appeared like disarray.

Disarray was a sweet word to use, with such tones of misery and happiness at the same time. So many ways that it could be interpreted, and so many ways it could not. Opening doors and windows to ones soul, the eyes held disgust behind the chaos, laying siege to whatever was left of the  
Angel's mind.

As he walked, the two suited men behind him walked in perfect tact. They had no expression that told of their soul's intent, they did however have weapons that could stake another of their kind. Harmless perhaps if used incorrectly, but deadly to them. As they walked the walls grew dark, pulling itself towards the older Angel, dragging itself across the darkness that surrounded them. Such... Disarray. Not even the world could withstand such agony. Not even God could ignore the scars he was displaying so arrogantly. Yet... he did.

Zachariah's eyes gloomed, his pace slowing down for every step he took. Eventually the hall ended, leaving the angel peering into the void that lay ahead. Why was he here? He couldn't remember. He needed something, yearned for something. Craved it, but what was it? What did his soul so wish to devour in one foul, if not devastating swoop? He had no answers, and only kept walking. He was walking on thin nothingness, alone, solitary. He distressed, his movements mechanical and slow, calculating the effort of every movement. He continued thus, every step in a simple rythem.

What was happening?

Why was everything vanishing? All his work, all gone. All because of one, rebel angel. One of God's favourites. One of God's precious little sons. Was he not precious? He had worked for over seven thousand years... but alas, he lay cast aside for a mere pup, a child of no more than two thousand. He was redundant, his place claimed by a simple, little child. He spat into the void, and walked into the woods. He saw the child in front of him, his soul clenched. It wanted him, it wanted to make him realise true fear, who he had to bow to! Would he though? A voice spoke in his head, Would a child bow to an old man, a man grown so tired he sees no white or grey. He saw nothing, black, only the darkness surrounding them. They were responsible for earth, and still could not manage a simple human population of seven billion.

Was it this Angel's fault? Perhaps not, but he had started to rebellion, he had started the fall. He drew closer, a song humming in the back of his head. Cheering him on. He lifted his hand and grabbed the child. He looked frightened.

Good...

Fear was his power, he would make him bow. Bow to him with will and grace. Bow to him like he should have the first time they laid eyes upon one another! He held his life! The child was struggling, spewing out threats, snarling that he could not harm him. Could he not? Could he not violently attack another of his kin? A little, baby, brother? He stared blankly ahead. He stared past the Child's eyes and into his soul; his frightened, little soul. A smile passed his lips. Little brother was his now.

The show went on, with naught but the skies to watch as God was no longer present. The clouds went by as the Child wept and begged. Blood dripping from his head. Zachariah held his smile, continuing without touching the boy. He was still a God of Life, he was still a King. No lord or Master could take that from him. He was still God, he was still the master of this one's life. He was still King. He was still...

'Zachariah.'


	4. Chapter 4

The wood were burned and dead. Some trees had fallen over leaving splintered wood all around him. Between two trees, Castiel turned around his arm quickly grabbing his angel-blade to protect himself. Swiftly killing the two angels that had shown up he looked around hurriedly, almost frantically. He saw no one, yet a voice told him to be careful, that he had to keep watching. A branch cracking made the young Angel spin violently, peering cautiously at his superior. 'Zachariah.' He said, bowing his head slightly. He waited, watching the other angel with tense muscles.He wasn't moving, he wasn't even looking at him.

'Zachariah?' He attempted, stepping back a little, as he felt something begin to crawl down his spine. Uneasy, worried. Castiel stepped back again, preparing himself to fly away. Before this happened however, Zachariah was in his face, and grabbed his arm violently. Castiel staggered a little bit but held up his brave face. On the inside he felt the uncertainty begin to grow however. He wasn't sure what was happening.

His body felt weaker, his vision swam slightly. Castiel gritted his teeth sharply, 'You cannot harm me.' He spat, glaring at the other angel. He felt his head grow heavy, but struggled against the grip the other angel. He felt his knees sag a little, and swore softly, his eyes fluttering as whatever Zachariah had done overcame him. He drew a shuddering breath, staring at the older angel. 'You cannot harm me. The Arch-Angels will hunt you down if you hurt me.' He tried, even though his voice sounded unconvincing and weak. Zachariah's grip on him tightened and he whimpered lightly as he was pushed against a tree-stump, too week to stay standing alone.

He stood there, leaning against the stump as he kept his shaking legs as straight as he could. Something was wrong though, he felt it, he could feel the snaking feeling that something was horribly, horribly wrong. 'Zachariah. You are too far fallen if you dare lay a hand on me-hih!' his voice hitched and grew loud as Zachariah gripped his crotch tightly. He let out a small wail as his Superior fondled his weakened body. He wasn't sure what was happening, he didn't like it though. He pushed at him, losing his footing in the process and falling to the ground.

Dazed and confused, Castiel blinked several times, trying his best to understand what was happening. He groaned as Zachariah pushed his foot against his crotch, whispering something incognisable. The younger Angel whined and tried to twist, but his mind was finding it hard to focus. When had he been drugged? Where had the opportunity been? He rolled onto his stomach and attempted to crawl away, his wings fluttering weakly as they attempted to fly. Instead of vanishing from this attack however, his wings became restrained by a rough and callous hand. Stroking the base softly, he heard laughter emanating from behind him. 'Please...' he whispered, wanting to twist and bite his way free from the one touching his wings.

They weren't supposed to be touched like that. They were meant for flight, for freedom. For-oh...

The trail of thoughts he had dropped as a hand gripped his backside, massaging it along with his wings. The feeling of vomit laced his throat as Castiel once again tried to get away from this scene. 'Oh no...' He yelped as his belt was grabbed and used to pull him back across the ground below him, shoving sticks and dirt into his face and ruffling up his shirt in the process. Gasping as he was pulled up into a sitting position by his hair, Castiel felt his eye begin to swell even before he was struck. He also began realising very slowly that this was not something he could get out of easily.

As his superior stood above him, with a plain expression on his face, yet that expression told Castiel all he needed to know. Bracing himself for another blow, Castiel closed his eyes and held his breath. He wasn't however expecting the feeling of something soft pushing against his face. Opening his eyes he let out a horrified gasp and moved his face violently to the side. Zachariah's crotch pushed against his face and smeared itself against his mouth, making Castiel gag and turned away again, his eyes now rimming with tears.

Zachariah appeared to be enjoying himself as he let out grunts and groans as he rubbed himself up against the younger. Holding onto Castiel's hair, he slowly unzipped his trousers and released his member, pushing the hard, sweaty object against the Angel's face. Castiel felt nothing but repulsion at this action and visibly gagged, before being released. He tilted sideways and spit onto the ground, shuddering as he rubbed his cheek. 'What are you doing?!' he yelled, his eyes fiercer than he felt. Zachariah however tutted softly and grabbed his hair again pulled him onto the tree stump.

Leaning him over it, Castiel tried desperately to push himself up to to run away, but Zachariah sat on his back and began to gently stroke his wings. At first it was slow and gentle, Castiel found himself relaxing into the soft movement, relishing in it even, but it got rougher and Castiel whimpered. 'S-stop.' He cried, shifting underneath the older Angel. He didn't understand what was happening, he wanted to leave. 'M-m...' he tried speaking his older sibling's name, Michael, as it left many paralysed, but he was unable to breath properly, so speaking as a bad idea. He tried anyway, pushing out the letters as he stroking went closer and closer to the base. 'Stop!' He screeched suddenly and used all his might to push himself off the tree-stump.

Lying next to the dead tree, Castiel was gasping, shuddering and starting to cry. He didn't understand, he was afraid and he didn't understand why. Pulling himself to his feet, he stared horror-struck at Zachariah, who's trousers where still lose. 'What are you looking at, Castiel?' The elder asked, smiling at Castiel calmly. He stepped backwards, tripping over stones and branches as he did. The Rebel angel didn't make it far until he was being roughly groped again, bent over the fallen tree like a child who had misbehaved. 'Stop. This.' He huffed through clenched teeth, 'Stop this! I am not for you to use! Michael will hear of this! Let go of me! No angel is allowed to do this! This is why Sodom was destroyed! STOP IT!' The last words came out in a panicked rush, and he struggled violently to get free from the older man's grasp. He was unsuccessful, an endured several minutes of the man rutting up against him, the angel feeling more and more filthy by the minute.

'Stop...' he tired again, desperate, frightened, breathless. He wanted to leave, he had to leave. He needed to get free, he neede- 'No! No!!' He twisted himself from side to side as his trousers were pulled down, he didn't want to. Whatever it was he didn't, he couldn't. They wouldn't make him, they couldn't make him. He was free, he had free will they couldn't hurt him, they couldn't hurt him, they couldn't... He whined as the cold air touched his backside, whimpered as the cold hand of his superior trailed their fingers over his backside, sobbed as he fingers pushed in and wailed loudly as they began to move. His knee's crumbled, and he wished they hadn't as he then fell on top of the intruding fingers even harder than they were moving. It hurt more than he had been able to anticipate. 'Brothers...' He croaked after a short while of being shoved into the ground by Zachariah's fingers.

The fingers pulled out, and he sighed with relief, pulling himself up on shaky legs. 'I... I will not- What are you doing!?' He didn't even get to finish his peace offering before the older had his mouth around Castiel's cock, sucking on it ruthlessly. This wasn't meant to feel good, it was meant to hurt.

And hurt it did as Zachariah bit, nibbled and pulled at his sensitive member. Castiel felt weak, sullied, even small as his entire body shook at this rough treatment. 'No..' he breathed, shaking his head, attempting to deny whatever was happening. 'No.. No, no, no. NO. NO!' He sank down and found himself face to face with the man at the center of this torment. 'No, please... Don't, just don't. I don't understand, so please, it hurts. Don't...' Castiel wanted it to stop, He couldn't express it but he needed it too, he needed to hide his face.

Alas, a mercy not granted.  
Zachariah pulled him up again and placed him on his knee, making him bend over and bury his face in the elder's crotch. The foul smelling, swelled member pulsed as he came closer and closer, all the while Castiel attempted to look elsewhere. 'Pl-please!' He tried, closing his eyes to whatever he was being forced to do. He would deny it, this would not happen. This couldn't happen.

He thought he felt the fingers return, but whatever pushed into him was slightly wider, colder. It was dry, and it hurt as it was pusher further and further into him. Castiel's body gave up, and the only thing that kept him up no was Zachariah's hands clutching his head and pushing towards his pulsing cock.

'Enjoy, Michael said I should reward you...'

Before Castiel could protest verbally, the cock was pushed violently into his mouth and thrust fast and shallow. He felt like he was choking, unable to get past the smell and the feeling of the pubic hairs brushing against his face. His gag reflex jumped into action and his body made an attempt to upchuck the object obstructing his mouth. He wanted to fall into the ground, but was so very unable to move. He began to cry now, his tears falling freely down his face as the violation continued. After a short while did he feel something else tugging at his own sexual organ, and he keened loud enough for the member filling his mouth to act as a poor muffle. Zachariah simply moaned at that and continued, thrusting deeper and deeper into his throat.

This proved too much for Castiel as his eyes grew wide and he retched violently on the cock in his mouth, the tears tripping onto the leaves below. 'You wretched little!' Zachariah didn't finish before he punched the young angel and began cleaning his sex organ for spew. Castiel lay on the ground shivering, sick dripping from the side of his mouth. Zachariah glared down at him and the younger angel swallowed and began to pull himself away, the drugged stupor he was in slowing down his muscles reaction time considerably.

He didn't make it far before Zachariah hovered over him again. Castiel shivered, and let out a strangle gasp as he felt whatever had been pushed in get pulled out sharply. 'N-no...' he whispered, shaking his head. 'No... You don't. Not you, please, stop. I... Please, no... Zachariah.' He keened, his eyes releasing the odd tear now and then. His entire body ached from the strain of trying to move. He wanted to stay put and just surrender, but his pride, his will to survive was too great. He needed to fight; but he couldn't. He couldn't fight anymore. He gripped Zachariah's shoulders tightly as he dropped over him. 'Stop.' He tried again, this time sounding more fierce than he had earlier, 'I will... I'll kill you.' He cried through gritted teeth, squirming as his superior wormed his fingers into his hole again.

This time however it was unpleasantly pleasant having them there. They wriggled and wormed, stroking his insides. He let out a surprised gasp as something sweet was touched, dropping his arms from his assailant's shoulders to cover his face as shame began to boil beneath his skin. His lips trembled as the same sweet spot was touched again and again, he twisted and wriggled and turned trying to make it stop. He felt a pressure in his stomach grow, and he wailed loudly as he felt something hot shoot from his sex-organ. Shaking from the sensation, he looked up at his capture who was holding him down with nothing but brute strength. This frightened him more than he thought it would, and he gasped for air faster and faster, his body trembling as Zachariah sat on his chest. He knew what he wanted before it happened, but it didn't make him any less prepared for the intrusion of his mouth. He did what he could, but felt his gag reflex doing it's best to make it impossible.

It felt like hours, the entire attach felt like hours, but this was the worst. Knowing that he could not move the angel attacking him even with his own strength. He was weak, he was afraid, and as Zachariah moaned and panted above him, he felt the urge to cleanse himself repeatedly. Finally he felt a disgusting taste shoot into his mouth and he pulled away from the organ. Zachariah didn't feel he was finished however and the hot liquid shot into Castiel's face and hair. This was the final straw for the young angel, and with all his strength, managed to twist himself free. He lay there, panting, groaning and whispering sad prayers to himself. Zachariah walked over him, looking the very image of order. Castiel lifted his beaten head and stared angrily at the other angel, 'I... will kill you.' He hissed, although he did not feel as brave as those words aimed to make him sound. He began to tremble and scrambled shakily to his feet as Zachariah stopped closer to him. 'I'm sure you will try.' He said, smiling at the angel in a way that made Castiel lose all courage.

He dropped to his knees shaking uncontrollably. 'No...' was all he could whisper before he heard his superior vanish in a twirl of feathers. His own wings would not work, and he sat on the site of his assault until the sun vanished behind the mountains, and darkness folded around him.


	5. Chapter 5

He had heard chatter on the Angel Radio that Castiel had been seen leaving a wooded area looking more than a little shuffled. Gabriel had taken it upon himself to investigate this gossip. Although now that he was looking at his younger sibling sitting on the edge of a bed, he admitted that a little bit shuffled was not a good way to describe his younger sibling's affliction.

Castiel's face was red, dirty and bruised. His eyes appeared both sore and stuffy. His coat was covered in dirty and so was his knees. He had a large bruise forming on the side of his neck, and his hair look strangely disheveled for the type of Angel Castiel was. He kept watching however, as he had done for the past three hours, waiting for his sibling to do something. He admitted he was tempted to appear before the young one, demand to know what was troubling him. For now however he would watch.

He watched his sibling's shaking frame with slight fascination, as he'd never known an angel to show any form of fear, he wanted to know what had happened, but he couldn't find a way to logically appear and ask. He seemed jumpy, so an angel suddenly appearing before him might have the opposite effect of comfort. He stiffened though, as he saw his brother lift a shaky hand to his face and touch it and his hair. He felt his stomach twist as something sticky came away with Castiel's hand. The Angel's expression was heartbreaking, a mix between extreme confusion and even more fear. He wanted to appear before him. He almost needed to, but before he could reach his decision his brother rose to his feet, shaky as they were, and stripped his coat off on the way to the bathroom. His shoes and socks lay discarded elsewhere.

Underneath the coat, Castiel appeared so much smaller and weaker. He couldn't help but wonder what had been so cruel as to harm something so fragile appearing. He followed his brother into the bathroom, cringing as he saw more of the sticky stuff on his chin and chest.

Standing coatless in the bathroom, Castiel stared into the mirror, before looking at the shower. He appeared to be curious on how to use it. Gabriel knew, but he couldn't appear before his brother, he had not witnessed enough to confront him just yet.

The next few moments where however critical, as his brother stepped into the shower, and turned on the water, standing in the spray with his clothes on, his shaking form appearing even smaller still. Gabriel swallowed, watching his little brother falling apart in front of him. He walked out, and looked at the coat that lay on the ground. He picked it up and sniffed it gently, his nose wrinkling as he caught a familiar scent.

Sex.

Gabriel walked towards the bathroom and stared at his brother now sitting in the bath, his legs crossed at the ankle, knees up, resting his arms on them and his chin at the crossed part of his arms. He looked the very image of pitiful, his hair matted and wet, the sticky stuff still doing it's best to cling to his hair. Gabriel stood in the doorway for too long, and didn't realise his spell had broken until he saw his brother's eyes grow wide and fearful. He rose in the bathtub but slipped and landed in an inelegant heap. He rose again however and stood straight, although still trembling in some places. 'Brother.' He croaked. His voice sounded as distressed as he looked. His eyes were still swollen, and the bruises he had received appeared angry.

Gabriel walked over to him slowly, taking in his wounds with careful precision. 'What happened?' he asked as nicely as he could. Castiel's eyes grew wide but he took a breath and attempted to answer anyway. 'Demons.' Was all he choked out, but Gabriel saw a nervous shoulder shift, and realised this was not the truth he was looking for.

Castiel slipped past him and grabbed his coat, looking at his brother fearfully. 'I was overwhelmed, I am alright, just a bruise or two I am finding difficult to heal.' Gabriel remained unconvinced. 'Your coat smells like sex.' He said, a glint of fun in his eyes. It was serious, but he still thought it was funny that such a stiff like Castiel went in that direction. 'Interesting Team you are playing for.' Castiel looked confused, his eyes gave it away. 'Team?' he questioned, pulling his coat over his wet clothes. 'I do not understand, Gabriel.' He said, his voice returning to it's normal numbness. Gabriel understood however, as his younger brother couldn't seem to find a leg to favour. He closed his eyes softly, but they shot open again as he heard a soft flutter of wings.

Castiel was gone, shoes and socks left behind, some drops of blood on the carpet. Gabriel doesn't make a sound, he doesn't move; he barely thinks. Castiel had had sex... Castiel had showered in his clothes. Castiel was strange. Stranger than usual.

The Arch-Angel peers into the bathroom with the shower running, he stares at where his brother had sat for three hours. He sees a small stain, but is unsure what it is. It was a motel, it could easily be anything. The stronger angel sighs and prepares to fly away, practically singing a mantra.

'No one can hurt an Angel.'


	6. Chapter 6

His entire body was aching as he sat against the tree. Castiel's wet clothing had drenched him completely, and since he was shoeless his feet were cold too. People walked past, some tried to get him to talk. He shrunk away from them however. His vessel was sick, it seemed, because Castiel's only coherent thought appeared to be water, and warmth. He had neither. It was only when someone put a hand his forehead that he even bothered to open his eyes. They were blurry, and his cheeks stang. 'Sir? Can you hear me? We're from Riverview Psychiatric Center. We're taking you in to make sure you are alright.'

Psychiatric?

His eyes unfocused and he tried desperately to speak, but all that came out was a small wail as someone grabbed his sore and cold legs. A brief flash, and he started to kick and scream. He saw him, he was hiding among them. He was there! Castiel's heartbeat felt erratic in his chest, he wanted to get away. Pulling himself free, he managed to stand up and made a run for it, someone however grabbed his foot and he fell into the grass below. 'No! Nonononono.' His mumbling came out along with quick heavy breaths. He heard muttering above him, the letters 'PTSD' was mentioned as well. He didn't care though, he wanted to get away. He couldn't go through it again. Not again.

'Sir... Do you know your name?' A woman? He turned his head and saw gentle eyes peering at his face. She looked worried. Castiel had to think. Did he have a name? Was it Castiel? What was his name on Earth? The woman put a soft hand to his forehead. 'Sir...?' she asked again, gently rolling him onto his back. 'Cla...' his voice was stiff, his throat dry and sore, but he tried again anyway. 'Cl-clare. Clarence...' He finally whispered, wincing at the pain speaking made. He hadn't noticed it earlier, but his throat hurt more than anything. 'Clarence. That's a cute name. Clarence, do you know what's happened to you?' The nice woman stays by his side as two other people sat down next to him, putting their hands underneath his shoulders and knees. 'I... don't know. I.. don't.' He stopped, the pain was too much, and the nice lady nodded softly. 'We're taking you to a hospital, to treat some wounds you have, then we will take you to Riverview. Is that alright Clarence? Did you understand all that?' She wasn't saying it as if he was stupid, she was saying it to make sure he knew exactly what was going on. The nice lady didn't want him to be afraid.

The travel was long, at least it felt like it for Castiel. In reality it was probably shorter than thirty minutes. Castiel didn’t mind though, as the nice woman was next to him. She kept talking to him. Kept him away and alert. Whenever he started to doze she’d give him a light shake or pinch him so that he’d snap back. He didn’t understand why, but accept it as it was beyond his current control.

He’d been strapped down the minute he’d been on a stretcher, and the feeling was less the comfortable. This left him a crying mess as the nice woman tried continuously to explain that they would not hurt him. Castiel was unable to explain it wasn’t them he was afraid of. He had his eyes closed when they entered the hospital, but he heard that whatever they were going to fix was a bit serious. He listened, waiting for the nice woman to speak, as her voice was his safety line in the darkness. ‘How bad are the wounds?’ he heard someone ask, it wasn’t the nice lady though. ‘These injuries are consistent with your suspicions, Nurse Tate. I suggest we dress his wounds, give him some antibiotics and send him to Riverview. According to the personnel who joined you, his reaction was consistent as well.’ He flexed his hand lightly and felt someone turning him onto his side. He opened eyes and recoiled as Zachariah’s face was inches from his own. Castiel screamed loudly and struggled. Two people held him down as his arm was pulled out and a needle was softly but firmly pushed into a vein. ‘It’ll be okay, Clarence.’ The sweet whisper of the woman, made him shudder, as it reminded him of Zachariah’s sweet whispers as well.

Psychiatric Nurse Florence Tate stroked her new patient’s hand gentle was the tranquilisers slowly took hold. It was heartbreaking to see someone so young and helpless haven been taken advantage off, but the evidence almost screamed it. She watched the head nurse tutter softly as the injuries the young thing had on his body. ‘No penile penetration. Slight tearing, nothing too serious. It’s already healing on it’s own, I would say it was less than a week. Bruises on arms, face and neck are doing nicely as well. Fever at 102. Give him some aspirin. Nurse Tate, did you say his name was Clarence? Does he have a last name?’ Florence shook her head, ‘No. He only said Clarence. He clothes were slightly damp when we found him, he also appeared to be in pain when he spoke.’ The senior nurse nodded, ‘I’ll get the doctor to take a look at him, once the case is assigned. Until then, make sure he stays sedated. His reaction simply from looking in his own reflection is enough for me to send him to the Mental Health Unit.’

Florence took some paperwork from the end of the bed and started filling in the name. It was a little sad to write Clarence Doe, along with unknown on the address and social security number, but it was all she could do. About an hour later a doctor came in looking a bit worse for ware. ‘I’m sorry for being so late, how is he, how old is he and where was he found?’ He asked immediately, walking over to the patient.

Florence stood up from where she had been sitting and walked over to the side of the bed, watching the doctor. ‘He’s been out the entire time, no sound of movement except for the occasional hand flexing and whimpering. His exact age is a bit unknown, but I’d estimate late twenties early thirties. We were called out to the park nearby, I can’t remember the name but he was found lying under a tree.’ She paused to take a breath then continued. ‘One or two people sent complaints that there was a junkie stuck in the park, so we went out to get him. When we got there we saw, what appeared to be serious wounds on the arms, upper chest or throat area and his was trembling quite badly.’ Whilst speaking Florence watched the doctor examine the areas she spoke of.’ By the way he was positioned made me believe he had perhaps been put there and been too weak to move. His temperature was high, and due to his reaction to physical contact we believed he may have been a victim of sexual assault. The Matron-’ she stopped mid-sentence as the doctor ushered her closer.

‘Could you hold him in this position?’ Florence held tightly onto her patient’s body as the doctor pulled back the bedsheets. She held her breath, watching the doctor do his work. Peering occasionally at Clarence Doe’s face, she waited to see any form of discomfort.

‘This… is not very pleasant.’ The doctor finally said, pulling off his gloves. Florence looked up at him again, ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, slowly rolling Clarence Doe onto his back again. The doctor looked up from writing, ‘It was violent, whatever it was. I felt some crusty areas, I am going to take an educated guess and say there are some reasonably deep lacerations on the inside. They are healing, but I want to put some antibiotic cream on them anyway, just to help the process. I’d suggest only liquid for at least two weeks, then allow him some jelly in between.’ Florence nodded as she listened to the doctors suggestions. ‘His throat is also bruised quite badly, I would say he was exposed to a brutal oral assault. Bruises the only things we can’t really cure, so if he finds swallowing hard put him on an IV drip.’ At that list thing, the doctor gave Clarence Doe a gentle pat on the shoulder. ‘Hang in there buddy, you’re in good hands.’

As he was leaving, the doctor stopped at the door looking at the paperwork. ‘I’ll call the police, once he wakes up. Even if he is homeless, this sort of assault is unacceptable.’ He tapped the window and left the papers on the sideboard. The nurse sighed softly, stroking the young man’s hair. ‘Sleep well, Clarence Doe.’ Leaving the room, she closed the curtains and the blinds, closing the door ever so slightly and turned off the light.


	7. Chapter 7

The white walls where starting to look friendly. So was the staff. Castiel couldn't really complain, he was safe here, no angels could find him, especially not him. No one could ever find him here, not a single soul.

He was in the recreational room when a nurse came in, holding a small woman's hand. Her hair shone slightly, but it was her eyes that he noticed most. They were phased over, appearing gone with the wind. Castiel knew better, and looked away when she was sat down next to him. 'Clarence, this is Chana... Why don't you two talk?' The nurse was nice, she gave Castiel glasses of water whenever he wanted one, he didn't need to ask anymore. She just knew. Chana looked at Castiel intensely. 'I saw you in the garden while matching two patients. I wanted to ask what you were doing here, but I saw the sigils. You know those weaken you right?' Chana was treating him like a child, but Castiel felt worry etch into his system. 'If you can find me, so can they.' He said defensively.

She didn't reply, simply grabbing a piece of his puzzle and putting it in place. 'If I can find you, they won't bother looking.' She whispered, not looking at him as she took another piece. Castiel grimaced, and they sat in silence for a while. It was only as the nurses came round with medicine that they both stood up again and went somewhere quieter.

Castiel's room was much like the others, except he had drawings on a wall that looked like they were made by children. Castiel sat down on his bed half expecting Chana to begin lecturing him about abandoning his post. Instead she looked at the drawings. 'These were made by children?' she asked softly, looking at every last one of them with acute awareness. Castiel nodded. 'Children's ward, they have them draw older patients drawings of what makes them sad or afraid.' Chana nodded, and sat down on the floor. Castiel looked at her, then the door, then Chana again.

After a while, he lay down on his bed and watched the cupid watch him. 'Why?' he croaked suddenly, his body trembling lightly. Chana didn't answer, she simply watched him shake and tremble. 'Why!?' he suddenly screamed, making the other angel jump violently. He was staring at her, and Chana's body was screaming run. She didn't move however, she stayed, and Castiel rose up from his bed. Chana stood up as well, waiting for an attack. It didn't come though, as the institutions orderlies ran into the room and grabbed old of Castiel. Chana looked frightened up to the point where Castiel started to scream.

'No! No! No, no, no, no! Don't! Not me, not here, not, stop it! Stop it, Za-!' His voice stopped as the nurses lowered him onto the bed, the injection in his arm knocking him out. Chana's face was shock, and as one of the orderlies led her out of the room, she couldn't help but watch the angel twitching on his bed, a blanket pulled over him before he was strapped down. He looked terrified, even though he was out cold his face still showed the grimace of fear. Chana trembled lightly, wondering what happened to her brother for him to become such a shell.

With Cas, he trembled. In his mind so many things were going wrong. He couldn't see Dean, he couldn't see Sam, or his brothers. He was falling backwards, he was trapped. Stuck. He felt something dripping onto his face and looked up, where ever up was. Zachariah stood above him ever frightening, ever vigilant. He closed his eyes, his body no longer falling.

He felt the leaves underneath his body, but he didn't open his eyes. He didn't need to.


	8. Chapter 8

He'd been in the hospital for almost two months now. He was starting to enjoy the routine of it all. Seven o'clock was medicine for the younger guests, eight o'clock was breakfast, nine thirty was therapy and group therapy. From nine thirty to twelve it was recreational time, he typically spent it in the garden, occasionally talking to Chana who was there just to watch him. From twelve to two thirty it was lunch, then there were several activities that could be enjoyed such as art therapy, drawing classes, gymnastic therapy and other things like that. He enjoyed drawing mostly, but he'd stopped going. He realised his drawings appeared too much like him, and he wanted to avoid that to the biggest extent. He'd spoken to the nice nurse as well, and learnt her name was Florence Tate a volunteer with the ambulance services and a dedicated nurse.

They'd spoken bit by bit as she came in and helped him with his daily activities. It'd been a suggestion that they didn't change his nurses too much until he was in therapy, which he was now. The Nice nurse still came over and spoke to him though sometimes, when she wasn't busy with other patients put in her care. 'Clarence, Clarence.' Someone was shaking his shoulder roughly, and he tried hard not to flinch at the psychical contact. 'Yes, Nurse Tate?' he whispered gently, his body feeling stiff from sitting still for so long. 'You need to go to therapy now, alright? I know it's uncomfortable but the sooner you start to talk about things the sooner we will be able to help you get out into the open again.' She paused as his faced screwed up and he turned away from her. “Clarence” had been to therapy a few times already, but he had never spoken, and the doctor he was supposed to talk to didn't like being ignored; but he wasn't ignoring her, he was just too ashamed to speak.

'Tell you what, if you do a little bit of chatting in therapy, I'll arrange for you to join me shopping for games okay?' Castiel's eyes lit up at the thought of being with Nurse Tate outside of the hospital. 'Yes, Please.' He said, standing up as he did. Although he was a head taller than Nurse Tate, he knew that she could bring him to the floor with minimal effort. It's just how she had trained, he'd noticed it when they first met. She was confident, strong and well adjusted.

Everything he used to be.

He wanted to sit in silence in therapy today, he really wanted to, but the minute the door closed and the clock went on; he spoke. He raged, he screamed, he cried. He didn't say a coherent word, but sobbed and pulled at his hair trying desperately to say anything. He didn't manage it though, and as an hour passed he sat on the floor in the corner, with the doctor in front of him. His eyes were red and sore, his nose was stuffy and he was shaking. The doctor however was writing on the clipboard, her big brown eyes patient and caring. 'I'm impressed, you have spoken more now that I've heard in six weeks. We'll make progress, don't worry. What I managed to blott down is actually quite helpful, but... next time, I'd like you to try telling me, what happened. If you can that is.' Castiel nodded, and closed his eyes letting out a shuddering sigh. He was exhausted, but didn't know why.

As he left the therapists office he thought about the words he'd managed to utter during his rollercoaster of verbal mess. Hands, filth, crawl, dirt, woods, Superior. Nothing they could really piece together. He left for his room and waited there patiently, tapping his finger against his knuckles as they lay folded in his lap. He waited, and kept waiting, eventually he stepped towards the door and gripped the handle.

It didn't budge.

He tried again, his face losing colour the more power it took to try to move the door. He began to shake, and patted the walls, trying to find a way out. Something was wrong, very wrong. He could get out, he wasn't locked in, this wasn't happening. He wasn't trapped, he could get out, easily, no problem. He was safe, he was safe, he was safe.

His breathing became erratic, 'I'm safe, I'm safe, I'm safe, I'm safe, I'm safe, I'm safe.' repeating it faster and faster, he soon found himself clinging to his chest tightly, the nails digging into his skin through his hospital uniform. 'Safesafesafesafesafesafesafe.' He was shaking he noticed, but was it the pain in his side that made him tremble so? He couldn't see, he wasn't sure. He lay down on the bed, still clinging to himself as he waited for the door to open, for the nice nurse to walk in and take him out for a walk.

He needed air, he couldn't breath. Castiel closed his eyes desperately, needing the door to swing open. Needing someone to shake him out of this. He needed a hand on his shoulder. A drape to reality.

A hand.

He let out a sigh of relief and stopped shaking. 'Nurse Tate...' he whispered, opening his eyes. He expected the soft eyes to look into his, asking if it's another episode, if he wants to sleep instead of having lunch. If he wants to stay in, or go to the garden. Maybe talk to the therapist during the long period.

It wasn't the nice nurse though, it was someone else. This someone else made his blood run cold. This someone made him want to curl up against the wall with a blade at hand. This someone, made him want to scream. Before he could however, he was topped and a hand was held over his mouth, blocking his main source for air. He gasped, spluttered and started to cry, his breaths coming out as short and panic stricken. 'It's okay... Shh.' No, it wasn't okay, it wasn't it'd never be okay. He wouldn't let him do it again, he'd fight this time! He could fight!

Castiel tried to lift his arms but found them strangely heavy. He tried again, constantly. Zachariah's smile however was even more constant, the only thing he could glue his eyes to. They forced themselves into his core, violating him just by looking. He felt soiled, he felt the need to wash himself raw. He had to get away. The spluttering and desperate attempts to breath became too much as he was unable to get what was required for his vessel. Being this afraid, being this confused. It left him strangely human, although he didn't need to breath, he liked the idea that he could. Now he couldn't and he was left feeling trapped and exhausted, dizzy even.

'That's it... It'll be alright.'

He didn't want to, he couldn't. He had to stay away, the nice nurse would come for him soon. She would see him, she would save him. She would understand. He felt things getting foggier, darker even. He wasn't supposed to pass out. He couldn't. He was an Angel, angels didn't pass out, they didn't sleep, eat, dream, or breath. Yet he was doing so many human things. He shuddered at the feeling of hands roaming his body again, whimpering at the breath that struck his neck like lightning. The words that came from those lips however, were so much worse.

'Go back to sleep.'


	9. Chapter 9

Michael was a biblically correct angel. So what he heard whispered about his soldier upset him deeply. There was no way one of his own could fall to such an extreme. It was... impossible and yet, yet he heard those whispers among his warriors. He had called upon many, but not many knew who had started the vicious rumors. It was only when his loyalest came to his view that he heard the truth, and the truth burned his skin and mind like the idea of Lucifer winning. It had left him uttering the most poisoned words the angelic servant had ever heard; he left nothing to the imagination.

'Find him.'

He felt livid. Betrayed. His skin crawled and he wanted to remove himself from the very existence if what Zachariah had said was true. How could it be though? He was so loyal, young perhaps. A bit foolish, but he, he would never do such an atrocious thing, not even if the evidence spoke of such. He would never, ever do... That?

Castiel's frightened blue eyes met his, and he let his anger show as he pinned the younger sibling against the wall with a quick thrust of his arm. 'How dare you?' he bellowed, his voice racking the skies and walls of heaven. Many angels fled for a day, as Michael's voice sprung fear into them all. Castiel could not flee however, but his pitifully flapping wings made it easy to see he wanted to. 'How dare you betray my trust, you little, vile, taint upon the grace.' Michael spat, his fury growing more and more. He could tell his younger brother was terrified, but at the same time, he looked so confused, he looked so very, very confused. 'B-broth...er.' Castiel gasped, his hands shaking now with the strain of staying awake.

Michael dropped him. His entire frame roared of murder, but he would allow his brother a mercy if he spoke of truth. A mercy meant only for the best of his warriors. Castiel rose slowly, but he stood ready to run. This only angered the arch-angel more. 'You think you can hide from me?' he hissed, stepping closer to his sibling. 'You cannot hide, you cannot run. I own you, Castiel. You. Are, MY soldier!' The words were whispered with utter clarity, and he saw the little angel's knees appear weak. 'Bro-brother. Please... I meant no harm. I do not know what I am a betrayer of...' His voice shook, his body trembled and Michael briefly wondered if Zachariah had been telling the truth. He could never be sure though. 'I heard whispers of a great sin committed by you, Brother.' He whispered the familiar name, with such distaste and venom that his baby brother flinched.

'I... What sin?' Castiel tried, his eyes keeping contact with Michael's. Michael however diverted his eyes, scoffing. 'You lie to me in such a manner, brother? You... who would do something so disgusting?' Michael walked away from his sibling, before sitting down in a chair a few meters away. 'Why?' he hissed. He raised his eyes to peer at Castiel, but still saw the raw confusion. 'You truly do not know what I speak of?'

Castiel's soft but frantic head shake practically convinced Michael, where it not for the flicker of shame that danced in his eyes as he did. 'Liar...' He hissed, rising up to strike the helpless angel. Castiel's wings flapped frantically as he tried to get away from his brother, but let out a pained yelp as they were both grabbed. Michael pinched the joints of the wings tightly, his strength threatening to break the tender bones. 'You must be punished... Lying not only to your superior but also your brother. Basking in your sins, you expect me to allow such a disgrace of our kind to exist in Heaven?'

Michael gripped his brother's wings tighter and felt his grace rush as he felt the bones crumble under his grip. Castiel let out a long desperate howl and struggled violently. 'I don't understand, Michael! What is it I have done?!' Michael dropped him, and he heard his brother let out a shocked gasp. 'Zachariah. Take him, I need him, but this cannot go unseen to. Punish him.' He saw Castiel's body go limp as his loyal servant grabbed hold of the sinner's shoulders, hauling him up to his feet.

'Of cause, sir.'

As Castiel was pulled away, he noted the pleased smile on Zachariah's face. Raising his eyebrow lightly, he looked away from his brother's disgraced form.


	10. Chapter 10

It was strange how his fear would practically embody him, even though he was an angel of the lord. It was strange because this fear was not for the monsters he was fighting, but for the ones he called brothers. For his siblings, for the wrath of his father. He seemed to... small, in comparison to the great, great Arch-Angels. The fantastic, majestic masters of their world. He felt small next to them, even when they treated him lovingly, like a little brother. He felt his chest ache, his heart clenching in worry and personal disgust. He felt... sticky with dirt whenever he was around them.

He didn't know why they made him feel like that, when none of them had secured the sin that he had endured at the hands of another. Or was it him it had happened to? May haps it had been Jimmy who had suffered such a cruel pain, perhaps Jimmy had known someone who looked... or appear just as, that creature. He didn't know, he didn't want to know. He didn't want to feel or remember, because he had awoken from the incident, feeling as if something else had been added to him, something he didn't want. He felt soiled. Too tainted for God's love. His father's love. Did that feeling apply to his loving brother's as well? Even though Micheal was busy with trying to run the world, even he had noticed Castiel's behaviour had appeared... less.

Gabriel had noticed it the most, he had payed enough attention to his younger sibling to realise something had happened, but he never asked. So no one spoke of it. It was only now, now that he was next to him again, trapped in the same room as him, that he realised that whatever he had done, had truly left a mark.

'It was just a touch though...' Zachariah whispered gently, putting a hand on Castiel's sobbing shoulders. He was afraid of the man next to him, he was deathly afraid of him. He was more powerful than Castiel, more brutal. More loyal. He was so very afraid, a feeling he never thought he would have as an Angel. Zachariah's other hand was playing with Cas's belt, pulling it away. He wanted to fight, he needed to, but the ever lingering threat was still there. The one he'd whispered so sweetly into his ears. 'They would never believe you.'

He didn't know if it was true, but the minute his trousers were loosened, the thoughts became scrambled and he pulled away from the man, pushing himself against the wall desperately. 'Don't!' he screeched, hiding himself like a wounded animal. This fear came from one incident where this man had simply pulled him aside one day and fondled him, touched him perhaps...

Castiel's eyes were red and sore, as he had been in here a long, long time. Why was he here? How had this Angel managed to pull him in? He wanted to hide himself from the very idea that... more would happen. What would be worse than the experience he had previously had?

He pushed his face against the wall, his entire body shaking. Zachariah, however kept going, kept pushing at his body. Pulling, touching, stroking. He didn't want this, he had to stop this. 'Gabriel...' he cried, keening for his older brother. He needed them to save him, he was too afraid himself. He didn't understand what was going on, or why he felt so disgusting. His trousers were on his thighs, they didn't slid further down as the younger Angel gripped his own hair painfully. 'Please!' He sobbed, 'Please, Zachariah, I'll do anything, I'll... I'll...' He couldn't think. His mind was frozen, his brain was clouded by his terror. He couldn't breath.

He couldn't breath.

Gasping for air, the young angel felt painfully human, agonisingly so. His lungs where screaming for something, but he didn't know what it was. He was concentrating on something, but he didn't know what it was. He was looking for something, but again... he didn't know what it was.

Only when he felt the cold hands of Zachariah on his lower back did he realise just how bad it could be. How much worse than simple touching it might become. He felt something probing. He made no sound, he tried hard to regain the calmness he had been feeling before he was teleported to this place. To no avail however. He whimpered as a long, thick digit was pushed into his unprepared and very virgin hole. He gripped his hair tighter, he wanted to rip it out. 'Just relax...' the creature purred behind him, thrusting one finger in very slowly. Slow, simple thrusts. Not made to cause pain, not done to cause anything but feelings of care.

Castiel felt bile he didn't have go up this throat, he felt the disgusting liquid drip from his lips. He sobbed again, his cheeks now stinging. 'Zachariah...' he whispered, shuddering. He felt something else attempt to push itself into him, but this proved for some resistance, which in turn caused him pain. He let out a small cry and pushed away from the wall toughly, hoping to dislodge the other angel.

He found himself sprawled on the floor of a motel, with Gabriel and Micheal standing over him. His trousers were still loose, still hanging on his thighs. Although Micheal's face was covered in concern there was also some scorn present, while Gabriel appeared simply horrified. Cas saw them, hiccuped and launched himself at one of them, he didn't care which.


	11. Chapter 11

Work Text:

They were older brothers. Masters of themselves and their emotions. At least... Micheal was. Gabriel was less so, he ran away when his brothers fought, he hid for centuries and used practical jokes as an outlet to his fear and anger. He had no other productive way of doing it. He did not have his brothers reasoning and devotion. In his mind their father had left them the minute they began to fight among themselves. His brothers were cruel to each other, including his younger ones, many of whom did not even remember Lucifer's Rebellion. They were cruel to those who did not recite the lines, 'Lucifer the morning light, the shining beaker of evil spite.' There was little he could do about it, as he remembered when they'd made it up to comfort themselves.

'Luci is evil.'

'Lucifer will kill us all.'

'Lucifer wants to harm Father.'

He had heard it all so many times, Lucifer was always the one at fault, always the one who had caused it. Even when he, Gabriel, had done something wrong, the words that came out of his brother's mouths where 'Lucifer made him do it.'

It made him want to hide from them all. On occasion though he would meet his brother Michael and simple talk to him. Nothing too extensive, just small conversation. Michael didn't ask where he went, Gabriel didn't ask what was happening in Heaven. Until he started to notice his younger brother, no longer skulking the edges of every heaven. Simply walking along the lines of one simple one. He first realised something was different when he spoke to him, seeing his carefully chosen words, more careful than usual he might add. He noticed the uncomfortable shrug of the angels shoulders and his uncharacteristic consciousness around superior angels.

Most however was the aura of fear he was desperately trying to hide from them all. He didn't know how no one else was noticing it, but Michael saw it too. They whispered nothing though and allowed their brother to pass under their gaze. Until the evening when he entered the heaven of an autistic man's dream Tuesday, and saw his brother shaking on the ground.

'Castiel. Brother, why are you shaking?' he stood next to him as he observed the trembling form of his younger sibling. They weren't particularly close, but he was his brother, his family and they needed to take care of the younger, weaker ones until they grew. This Angel however appeared more than a little shaken. Tears where falling from his face, his lips trembling as he appeared to attempt to speak. 'Br-brother.' he whispered, his voice raw, as if he had been exposed to torture. Gabriel frowned deeply and got down on his knee. 'Little Brother, what is it that has you so afraid?'

The angel however cowered as the Older Angel still towered above him. 'Castiel, tell me.' He attempted, pulling the other up form the ground. This only seemed to make the angel fear him more as he pulled away sharply. His features swayed and calmed as they were close to equal height now that Gabriel was kneeling. 'Please... I can't.' Was all he was able to hear him utter, before the younger one vanished in a flutter of soft feathered wings. Gabriel was partially shocked at being refused, as it was not something he was quite used to, except by his fellow arch-angels. He stared at the spot where the younger one had been and wondered why this Heaven, why not another? He peered around and felt peaceful, but something else was here, in this Heaven. Something else was stuck in this heaven's memory. He peered around and saw flashes of a struggle, but not who was involved.

Sighing, he vanished from the Heaven, leaving a simple happy autistic man behind.

Michael on the other hand had less to go on. He watched Castiel perform his duties, but noticed that more and more would he avoid going back to Heaven, he'd avoid going home or reporting to his superior. He avoided his duties and stood often alone by a roadside simply staring into the air around him. Michael needed to know what was wrong, because this Angel had his vessel and destiny in his hands. This angel could not fail him.

Alas...the more Michael watched his Soldier fight a battle, the more he realised the battle he was fighting was not his. He was confused why an Angel would priorities something as small as their self over his destiny, over the destiny of many millions. He wanted to know, but instead he decided to watch his soldier as he sunk further and further away from their cause. It began to hut him seeing his Brother falling so hard from his post and soon he was unable to bare it alone. Approaching Gabriel in a motel room on Earth, he stood in front of him in a very temporary vessel.

'Gabriel... Something is amiss with Castiel. He appeared... troubled, on the last occasion that I saw him.' Michael stated simply, not looking at his brother. Gabriel nodded softly, 'I noticed something amiss as well, but I can't think of what it is... He was in another person's heaven recently, but he seemed... to be crying.' He said. It sounded absurd to Michael, but he took his brother's word for it. 'It is... peculiar that he would not share his troubles with us, so that he could focus on the real battle. Are we not his brethren?' he questioned no one in particular. Gabriel simply nodded.

They stood in perfect silence looking at one another. They no longer needed to speak, because as they both sat down on their beds they felt calm and at ease in each others presence. 'I miss seeing your pranks in Heaven, Gabbie.' Michael suddenly said. He had only called him Gabbie once, and he had been very, very young when it happened. They had all been brothers then, and odd notion, but a true one. They had been so very close to one another, but now... now they lay spread among themselves, unable to listen to voices that spoke reason and told them of their goals. They scattered themselves, lost their vision, their goals. Silence followed them once more, and this time nothing else followed Michael's comment.

Gabriel was about to suggest they leave before someone bought the room they were in, until a flutter of soft feathers was heard. Both him and Michael peered at the Angel who had entered their room. The shaking angel was desperately, but uselessly, trying to pull his vessel's trousers up. He sobbed loudly as he saw his brothers. Gabriel felt his throat tighten and he looked at Michael's shocked but also disapproving look. Castiel let out another sob and launched himself at Michael, although obviously not really aiming.

Michael grabbed hold of him tightly, wanting more to shake his soldier than cradle his little brother, but with a look from Gabriel, he held onto the younger one, on hand on the back of his neck, the other gripping his trousers tightly so that didn't fall. He and Gabriel exchanged confused but angered looks.

'Brother...' they both said, pity lining their voices.


	12. Chapter 12

Odd behavior was always expected when it acme to their angel, but when odd because strange and strange became insane, the brothers had to admit something was off. After Castiel recklessly attempted to attack a demon from behind, they decided to sit him down in their motel room and chat. The issue was however that he would fly away the minute they tried, so the boys hatched a plan.

With the help of holy oil.

'Dean, I know we're worried about Castiel, but why are we involving force?' Sam's long slightly greasy hair covered his perplexed expression as the older hunter prepared the trap. 'Holy oil traps angels. Holy Oil keeps angels still. Holy oil useful. Holy Oil save Cas.' His brother listed off everything, adding the last one with an tired glint to his eyes. Sam and Dean ahd discussed this for at least two days, but only now did it seem like a bad idea. 'Dean, there's got to be another way. Maybe another angel can tell us, anything but trapping him here. If anything we'll hurt his feelings or insult him. You know how he gets.' Sam had tried this argument since they woke up today, but his brother had not budged. Dean had no intention of budging either. 'Cas is being freakin suicidal with his missions and helping us. You saw that demon! He could have killed him! Or worse.' Sam scoffed, 'What could be worse?' Dean shrugged

They waited in silence as they tried to bring up the courage to pray for Castiel. They had no idea where he'd pop up so the entire room as a giant holy oil circle. Standing awkwardly in the middle Dean opened his mouth and let out a long sigh. 'Damnit, it's not this hard to pray to the guy normally.' Sam nodded as he flicked on a match. Suddenly the sound of wings was heard, and Dean had to face the hurt and confused expression of his friend. 'Dean. Sam. Why is the room on fire?' Sam looked at Dean, and Dean felt his eyes turn away from his friend. He had to look at him, he had to give him that decency at least. 'We uh...' He tried, looking at his brother for some help. Sam to the rescue it seemed.

'You've acted really weird lately, is there something going on, Cas?' Sam said, stepping closer to the trapped angel. Castiel, took a step back. Sam took another step, as now the Angel had no other place to go. 'Sam, personal space. I think Cas needs it.' Dean said those words, but he didn't believe them. There was about a meter or two between Cas and Sam, but Dean saw the frightened look in Castiel's eyes. 'What we're saying is that, lately you've seemed more reckless, more willing to die than... Normally.' Dean offered, stepping up to where his brother was. He saw Castiel's body quiver, but decided against mentioning it. 'I have nothing to say.'

Sam and Dean both raised their eyebrows. The pitch of the voice was so far from Castiel's usual one that they couldn't help but be absurdly surprised. 'Cas?' Dean tried, stepping closer to the binding circle. 'Cas, come here. Don't be afraid.' Castiel didn't move though, Castiel just sunk tot he ground and looked at the two as if they were going to hurt him beyond his limit. 'Winchesters. Let me go.' Dean's heart lept, and he embraced the guilt that had started to seep into him. 'Sammy, lock the door, hide us from, demons, angels, anything monstery and breathing.' As Sam went on to do that, Dean stepped close to Castiel. 'Come-on, Cas. Talk to us. Tell us what's wrong.' The more soothing his words became, the more frightened Cass seemed. He saw some tears starting to well in his eyes. 'Dean, please. I... I don't. I can't.' He kept trying to say something, but stopped at every instant. 'Dean, Please!' The desperate plead made Dean's heart clench.

It was so unlike Castiel to plead. So unlike him to beg and cower. 'Cas... Cas what happened?' he said, this time with more force to his words. This made Castiel look at him, although he appeared less frightened. 'I...' he tried speaking again, but this time it was less successful than before. 'I... Dean, I don't know...' he whispered finally. Dean felt himself plummet. 'What do you mean you don't know? Did someone hurt you? Cas. Cas!' Castiel's feelings of distress had made his wings come out, and although they could not see them, the shadows told stories that Dean didn't want to know. 'Cas... Did an angel hurt you? Why are you wings hurt that bad?' Sam was standing next to his brother now, his eyes wide and pained as he looked at the ragged display of angelic power. 'Dean, Dean I don't know. I'm just afraid. I'm... I'm always afraid, I'm always scared, in pain. I'm always seeing Zachariah. I don't... know.' He whispered frantically. He looked nauseous when he mentioned Zachariah's name but Dean didn't hang himself too much up in that. He'd be nauseous too if he had to serve that scumbag.

Sam bent down next to his brother and kept a nice distance away from the frantic angel. 'Cas, has someone tortured you? Did you do something wrong? Talk to us!' Dean grabbed the frantic angel by his shoulders, but regretted this decision. The look of utter terror in the Angel's eyes made him want to bury himself alive. He looked petrified, completely and utterly unable to move or understand. 'Cas?' Dean tried, shaking the angel softly. 'Cas, look at me. Look at me, Cas. It's Dean, I'm not gunna hurt you but you need to tell us what's happened.' Sam put his hands on his brother's arms and pulled at them softly. 'Dude... He's terrified.' He whispered, pulling Dean away from the hopelessly shaking angel. 'I've never seen anything like this. What kind of torture did they put him through if they made his wings look like that?' Dean looked back at Cas, and felt his gut plummet.

Cas was looking at him with such fear and hate that Dean wondered if maybe he'd done something. 'He's afraid of us, Sam. We haven't seen him for weeks and yet he's afraid of us. What kind of sick fuck hurt him so bad he ran away from us?' Castiel's sudden whimper brought them back, and Sam stepped down to the blue-eyed angel. 'Cas... Castiel, look at me Castiel.' Sam managed to make the angel look at him, and he tried his best not to look away. 'Castiel, where does the pain start?' he asked, trying to make it simple. Cas looked at him, and then looked away his cheeks tinting. 'My back.' He whispered. Sam nodded, 'Where on your back? High, low?' Castiel was still trembling but now he was avoiding Sam's gaze as well. 'Low...' he finally whispered. Sam nodded lightly. 'Why does it hurt?' he tired, hoping that this would work. Castiel's eyes flickered, his body froze.

'Zachariah.'

Dean's body shook with anger as he heard the name, but he waited for his brother to finish whatever he was doing. 'That's good, Cas, that's really good. Can you tell me what Zachariah did?' Dean hovered by the second bed, waiting for Castiel's answer. 'I...' He looked up as s aw shame written all over Castiel's face. 'I remember... hands, but I don't know. Who.' he closed his eyes completely and he hid under his trench-coat. Dean felt sick, but he opened his mouth to ask anyway. 'Did he touch you?' Sam looked at him, his eyes frantic, his body quivering a little. 'Dean...' Castiel let out a wail, 'I don't remember! I can't. I remember nothing it's all gone, all of it. Michael yelled at me, he thought I'd sinned, but I haven't, I haven't! I haven't done anything, and Zachariah. He... everywhere, he's everywhere! All the time, every day, I can't get away from him. His... hands.'

Dean stood up and went outside the motel. In one swift motion, he punched the pillar standing next to him. His knuckles cracked upon impact.


	13. Chapter 13

Park benches where always good places to simply sit. He'd learn this a long time ago, when he was in the early stages of learning about humanity. This was where he would sit and wait for his typical company to turn up, and turn up she did. Most cupids wore whatever they wanted, some where naked, some dressed in suits. Chana however dressed in flowey, summer dresses. No matter how cold or hot it was, she would always wear what befitted her job. Much like other cupids however, Chana went barefoot, and had an air of happiness around her he could not avoid. He felt better when she sat down next to her, crossing her legs and slipping them sideways.

She remained quiet. Children ran in front of them and many others walked past, but Chana's radiant hair and personality remained ignored by the general population. Today she was working, not only enjoying humans. Castiel sat up, his body sore and muscle tense. It must have been obvious because Chana tutted softly. 'You look like you require a mother's touch.' She said simply, her voice airy and soft. Her eyes appeared as if she was miles away, but he knew behind those glassy surfaces she was alert and listening. It's just how Chana was. Castiel shrugged stiffly. 'Perhaps. I... find myself unable to reach the one who would normally make me relax.' He looked to the ground again, briefly letting his mind wonder to Amhi's garden. 'I see...' was all he heard her whisper.

Castiel guessed she was waiting for him to speak, but he wasn't sure what she wanted him to say. Was he wrong? Did he need to go somewhere? Had he said something that needed resaid? He waited, until he heard the lower class angel let out a sigh. 'Castiel...' She began, 'Your secret is hard to find, it's hard to understand, but the cupids can see how much pain you are in, they know we speak, so they ask me if you are unwell. We are compassionate, we have to be... so I do not understand why you fear us...' she sounded saddened at the prospect that he feared them. He partially understood that sadness. The Cherubs, third class, where the kindest angels he had ever met, always warm and welcoming, always happy to help and share their love. Not all of them where like this, but the majority appeared as such. It was pleasant difference from the sour-faced angels on the higher levels.

Sometimes their empathy and compassion however was their downfall, as they felt all the despair of their siblings, even though they were never spoken to directly. 'The Mother guides us Cupids, while your Father guides you. Does he not speak to you in the same way?' Chana asked pleasantly, her eyes soft as she shuffled closer to the wayward son. 'I... ' He stopped, realising he needed to think about his answer. What did she mean? Cupids were always hard to understand. He settled for something and looked into the Cupid's eyes briefly, before breaking contact to speak. 'God has not spoken to any of us in a long time.' He whispered, his voice breaking slightly at the idea. His father was missing from his throne.

Chana simply nodded. 'Remember I mentioned my daughter?' Castiel looked up at the Cherub. He didn't move, but Chana continued anyway. 'She was a loving, happy creature, well deserving of the place she has been given, she would tell her father every day that she could hear the Angels sing, but heard no God.' Castiel shifted uncomfortably, 'Where are you going with this, Chana?' He questioned gruffly. Chana focused her pale brown eyes upon the High Class Angel. 'You are not alone in his silence, you do not need to be afraid that he is ignoring you, for whatever reasons you think he should. God, our Father, is a man of love and understanding, but like all parents he must show dominance and force should we go out of hand. He will not punish those who are suffering needlessly, such as yourself... Castiel.'

Silence washed over them, and in that silence Castiel was able to think for himself.

He didn't know what he was thinking, because whenever he tried to think straight, his mind collapsed and he wanted to vanish into the ground. He didn't know how to handle this, he wasn't sure what had happened. He had witnessed it, or something like it... but then, then it had been something completely different. The other had been compliant, and they had enjoyed themselves. He wasn't sure what was happening to him. He wanted to close his eyes to calm himself, but his face turned up in Castiel's mind's eye every time. The same, calm smile that he always wore, as if he was constantly in control as if he was doing the right thing. He was left doubting so many things, left doubting even himself.

He thought back to his time in Chicago, and what had been said there, he wondered ever so silently to himself, just what he was supposed to do. Who was he supposed to tell or convince? Who could listen to him? He didn't understand the idea or notion. He was confused, he felt afraid, he felt his vessel getting dizzy and a rough hand on his shoulder. Castiel felt the fear crawl around his skin, biting at it, making his arms and legs hurt, he wanted to stand up. He had to, he had to move. He needed to.

'Castiel!'

He looked at Chana, who's pale eyes welled with frightened tears. He stared into her eyes for a moment, before closing his own and leaning against the cupid. 'I... c-can't t-t-take it...' he stammered, making a weak grab for the lesser angel. He felt a hand hold his own tightly, and held it tighter still as he trembled and shook, cried and begged into her chest, sliding his head into her lap.

The park was now empty, darkness haven fallen over them not long ago. This didn't stop Castiel, as he quivered in the arms of the loving creature. 'I can take you somewhere safe, the Winchester boys, they have a safe home don't they? Can't you stay with them?' Her words help promise of safety and understanding, but he couldn't bring himself to trust them, even though he knew Cupids did not lie. They were not like other angels. 'Chana...' he whimpered, clinging to his companion tightly.

Chana stroked her hand through his hair, making circular motions over and over again. Perhaps to calm herself, or to calm him, he wasn't sure. He didn't want to know though, he didn't want to know anything. He just wanted to vanish. To get this feeling away from him, to be able to see his brothers, his father and not feel as if they should smite him for falling too far, too fast.

He sat up, and without a word walked away from the cupid. From what he could tell, she did not move from the bench, instead she let him walk away. She had offered all she could. She was after all just a lesser Angel.


	14. Chapter 14

He sat in the pizzeria across the street. He watched every move he made, every uncomfortable shuffle. He knew what was going on the minute the little angel had appeared. He had heard unfortunate whispers of the act. Angels were no better than humans, if the way they treated their subordinates was anything to go by. They appeared just as small and petty. Clinging to silly things such as honor and loyalty. He had so little time for this, that he was intrigued to see what would happen if he spent more time on it. Would it help the situation or make it worse?

Not that he was particularly interested in helping the little thing. He was interested in the effect the act had rippled through the angel's community. It would appear not reaping a soul was not the only way to cause unbalance in the system. The angel had ignored those who prayed to him.

People traveling tended to die more on Thursdays now.

If Death took the time to think about it, that was the main reason he was still here. The little thing had upset his balance. It needed fixing, but it seemed that sending a reaper to the arrogant little angel was not working. He was avoiding them rather skillfully. Today however, was not this little angel's day. Because he was sitting in the cafe just across the street from his pizzeria, and he had now spotted him.

Watching the trench-coated creature, Death's eyebrow rose as it made eye-contact with him. He didn't move, but heard the soft flutter of wings.

'Why are you watching me?'

'Why are you not doing your job?' Death replied, making the little thing's eyes open slightly and flinch. 'I have been busy, I believe death is your duty; Horseman.' His voice was strained, another detail Death realised was due to the act. 'It is. It is however your duty to safeguard those born on Thursdays and those who happen to be traveling as well. You are failing at both. Your father gave you a job, of cause an angel would be utterly unable to do it properly.' The angel's eyes shot back furiously. 'I am doing my job! What are you doing?! Why are you complaining that you have more to reap. You do not reap anyone!' Death did not move at this outburst, his lips did thin however and he stared calmly at the young one. 'Raising your voice will get you no where but putting me in a bad mood. Now... People who are not meant to die, are dying. We have souls walking around without a reaper, that is an unbalance. That is your fault. I want you to fix it. This subject is not up for argument.'

The little angel looked at him defiantly, but said nothing to those words. 'Do you believe the act committed upon you relieves you of your duties? I assure you, they don't. It was perhaps cruel, and simple, but it does not allow you to ruin this delicate order we have to uphold.' He was speaking as calmly as possible, but he saw the words cut deeper than he thought possible in this... dense creature. 'You are surprised? I am above most petty arguments and forms of punishment. You either learn from your mistakes or you don't. I take it you have learnt yours, little angel.'

'Castiel. I am not a little angel.'

Death titled his head softly to one side, 'To me you are, Castiel. Remember; I have been here longer than you have. I will be here long after you have all vanished. So yes, you are a little angel.' He looked down at the pizza he had in front of him and began to cut a slice into smaller pieces. 'I... I apologise, Horseman. I did not mean to make things harder for you.' The voice was strained, tired perhaps. Death didn't pay attention though, as he saw this conversation finished. The angel however, did not leave.

He let out a sigh. 'Why are you still lingering here?' he asked, his voice neutrally bored. The angel identified as Castiel looked at the ground, fiddling with his hands. 'I...' he stopped, his body showing slight trembles. Death was patient, he had to be, so waiting for this child to get to the point was not a problem. The point itself was the problem.

'How do I get passed this?' he finally asked, looking up at the first horseman. Death stared back at him, his body frozen in the position it had been previously. Seconds ticked by, and then he lay his knife and fork down. 'The reapers are fully aware of what has happened. One witnessed it. I am above helping you myself, this is only my problem if you make it become my problem like we discussed today. Talk to Dean and Sam Winchester. They are your... companions.' He kept it as matter-of-fact as he could, but saw the crestfallen expression on the little angel's face. 'You cannot avoid it forever. You are having trouble fully comprehending the simple acts performed. What if he chooses to go further? You are obviously unable to fight your own battles, so lay it upon the Winchester-Brothers to do it for you. As long as my Thursdays go back to normal I do not care how you do it.'

Castiel looked at the Horseman, and Death looked back, his dark eyes piercing. 'I cannot tell Sam and Dean.' the little angel finally whispered. Death wanted to scoff at the notion of pride that the little Angel was getting at, but waited for him to continue speaking. He would not get to eat in peace if he didn't let the angel finish. 'I... I'll fix things. I am strong enough to fight- Fight him. It was a fluke, I experienced drugged induced weakness.' He justified, making Death finally scoff. 'If that is what you want to believe. I don't want to have this conversation again, so lets just do a little bit of wall building.' He lifted his hand and grabbed the little angel's head in a tight grip.

'Lets just forget this conversation, and that act.'


	15. Chapter 15

Sam and Dean were dead again. They knew that much. It apprently happened on a regular basis according to several friends they had met in heaven. Didn't make it less strange everytime it happened, even if they couldn't remember it everytime it happened. They waked next to eachother, following the road. They saw a light at the end of the road, and the closer they got to it, the more it appeared like a garden.

'Maybe it's Joshua's garden again. You know, the Garden of Eden.' Sam suggested, stretching a little as he did. Dean said nothing, his eyes simply stared straight ahead like a bug to a light. 'Dean? Dude you in there?' waving his hand infront of his brother's face he waited for him to react. 'That light, is not the light that leaves us perminatenly dead...' he said suspeciously. Sam chuckled and looked ahead. 'Maybe it's another person's heaven then. If we go and ask them, they might point us to somewhere we can... go down?' Dean's expression told him what he was thinking about and he resisted the urge to swat him over the head. 'This is serious, Dean! We don't know how to get down; Again.' The again was an afterthought. It happened a lot they were told, but it didn't make them any wiser everytime they came up here.

It was strange.

They reached the bright light and as soon as they were close enough they realised that the garden was not the garden of Eden, but someone elses heaven. 'Should we go in?' Sam asked tentatively, tilting his head a little to the side. Dean shrugged and did a small tilt of his lips. 'I dunno, Sammy. Should we knock first?' after that he walked straight in, not being overly worried about the consecenses of doing so. Sam followed, but only because he couldn't leave Dean in someone elses heaven alone.

What they saw inside made both of their mouths drop a little. The wisteria plants had flowered, and as the sun bore down on them, Sam and Dean mavelled in the beautiful garden they were seeing before them. A figure walked towards them and Dean put his arm instinctively in front of his brother. 'Who are you?' the person asked, kindly, sweetly, but ever so dangerously. Sam and Dean had nothing to say as alarmingly green eyes pierced into their own. 'I, well.. You see.' Dean tried, being completely taken aback by the woman standing in front of them. 'We're lost. And uhm... We need to get back down to earth, y'know. Not in heaven.' Sam's attempt was perhaps an even weaker one than Dean's but the spirit appeared to understand.

She beckoned them to follow her, and so they did. A house appeared around a corner with an apple tree outside. Apples were growing on it and they looked ripe for the picking. 'What is your name?' the spirit asked Dean, her eyes soft and caring. 'Dean, this is my brother Sam.' gesturing towards his younger brother, Dean smiled at the young woman who stood before them. 'I see, well... I'm Amhi. This is obviously, my happiest memory. How can I help you?' She sat down on a bench outside the house and looked at them expectantly. 'If you could tell us how to get home, y'know. Down again, that'd be great. The recently identified Amhi looked at him slightly confused. 'If you are here, are you not dead?' She asked, her eyebrows going up slightly. Sam nodded slowly at first but soon him and Dean both nodded quite quickly. 'Yes, yes we're, uhm.. Dead, but we're not supposed to be dead at this moment. So we need to go back kinda quickly, see?'

She looked at them both, her eyes wide and worried. 'You know Castiel.' She whispered softly, eyes wide. 'Is he alright? I haven'tt seen him in a while!' Dean and Sam looked at eachother, shrugging lightly. 'We know, Castiel. How do you know him though?' Dean asked, crouching in front of Amhi. She beemed at him, seemingly very proud for what she was about to say. 'He visits my heaven a lot. Although he is always sad when he does.' Dean wasn't sure how to respond to that. Sure, Castiel was a grumpy little shit sometimes, but sad? He wasn't sure if he'd ever seen him sad. It was an odd notion really, now that he thought about it.  
Sam tapped his shoulder softly, 'Dude... look.' He pointed towards an angel statue, but it was covering it's face as if it was crying. Amhi looked at it as well, and made a reogniseable grimace. 'I don't like it either, but it's part of this memory. I can't seem to make it go away.' Dean turned to peer at the girl, his own green eyes matching her gaze. 'Amhi, what do you and Cas talk about?' She looked confused as if she didn't understand what he meant, but her eyes turned soft again. 'We don't really talk, he just lies down with his head in my lap and I stroke his head. It's weird though, the last few times he flinches when I try to.'

Dean looked at her instensly as he heard that. 'Flinch? Like he was in pain? Or like he was afraid?' Amhi's facial expression looked thoughtful, but in all honesty Dean had no way of knowing. 'Afraid, he was afraid when I saw him last. Although he did not show it to me, I could feel the fear. He was afraid of something big. I'm not sure what it was though.' Dean nodded lightly peering at his brother. Sam sat down on the grass in front of Amhi, and smiled at her in his typical charming way. 'Do you know what the big thing was?' he tried, although Dean did not feel hopeful that she could answer his brother's question. Amhi again looked thoughtful, but began to bite her lip this time an an attempt to think of something.

She looked unsure about something, and bit her lip a little harder. 'I... believe he feared his superior. Although I do not know his name. And I am not sure!' She added the last part, seeing the expressions darken on the brother's faces. Dean swore softly under his breath, looking at his sibling. They shared a thought, but didn't want to say it allowed. A flutter of wings though was heard, and everyone's attention was on the man staring at them both, grinning widly. Dean cringed, and as if they had planned it together, all three said the one name no one wanted to hear.

'Zachariah.'


	16. Chapter 16

The chilling wind the touched her skin, made the young woman realise something was off today. Something wasn't quite right. Not that she knew what. She didn't move from her own heaven into others. She knew it was possible, but she didn't want to leave. Besides... the Angel might turn up and need her company.

Amhi's eyes stared wistfully towards the place where the angel typically manifested from, but again it was empty, as it always was. She didn't understand it; he had come to her so often as of late, why did he suddenly stop? She felt lonely now, even though she had been alone for almost a hundred years before he first entered her heaven. Amhi now felt isolated from everything without the angel here.

Without Castiel.

She sighed, peering into the pond. The perfect reflection was rippling, showing off her distress through her heaven. The cloudless day had some grey looking shapes in the sky, the soft wind was now cold and bitter. The grass beneath her feet was wet and uncomfortable. Amhi felt as if her heaven was directing her feelings. She didn't need this. It was her heaven, not the angel's so why was it showing itself to her worry... For him.

The little lost angel.

She had seen the pain in his eyes, she had heard the agony that breathing caused. She had felt the fear beneath his skin, but she had done nothing. Because in the end there was nothing she could do, she was just a soul and he was an angel. She could never protect him even if she was alive.

This feeling continued to darken her heaven, and soon the rain fell onto her auburn coloured hair. Eyes looked to Castiel's spot again and she rose and walked to the small house at the end of the garden, closing the door behind her.

It was a small cottage. Small windows with lace curtains and wooden furniture. The floor was wooden as well, but it had small floral symbols cut into it. She traced one with her toe absentmindedly, the water dripping from her hair to the floor. Amhi went over to the stove and began to warm up some water, her eyes staying glued to the spot where Castiel would appear.

He had to appear.

As the water neared it's destined temperature, Amhi's eyes moved to look at the kettle. Almost a hundred years dead, and only now did she wish for company. It was strange, she felt unable to manage without knowing how the angel was doing. The rain kept going, harder and harder now. Almost breaking the windows. She curled up on the floor, her arms clinging to her old and wet body. The rain came along with thunder; lightning struck close by. She didn't know what to do, she couldn't understand it.

Then it stopped.

Castiel's bright blue eyes looked at Amhi calmly. He was standing on her kitchen table. He looked more than a little bit confused. Amhi stood up, the sun shining outside. Castiel stepped down and stood behind her looking out into the garden with a calm demeanor. 'Should we go out?' he asked slowly. Amhi simply nodded, opening the door to the warm wind and smell of flowers everywhere.

'Where were you?' she asked, looking at the young angel. He didn't say a word, he simply walked out into the garden and sat down onto the stone bench. Amhi followed him and sat down on the grass next to him. 'I'm sorry I'm late.' Castiel whispered, putting a hand on Amhi's shoulder. 'What was happening while I was gone? You looked afraid.' Amhi's eyes caste themselves down. 'I was remembering the night I found out I was with child. I had no husband, no job, I was unable to give my son a proper home. Then I died, I had nothing to worry about. All my sins were forgiven, because I refused to give my son to a couple that would not love him as much as I. I killed my son that day, because I saw him die in a workhouse. They had been made reasonably illegal when I was just a girl, and yet my son died in one. Given one drop of too much whiskey. He died. I was forgiven for a sin that no mother should ever think about.'

Castiel put a tentative hand on her head, and stroked it robotically. It felt soothing, but she pushed the hand away gently and sat up upon the bench. She then began to stroke Castiel's hair and he leaned down into her lap and lay here. Nice even strokes kept the young angel calm, because suddenly this was all Amhi needed. She needed to make sure that at least this child would be safe, that at least this child had someone to go to.

Amhi needed Castiel's safety to assure her own.


	17. Chapter 17

Michael was never one to go against. He was used to getting his own way. There was a script to follow, and follow it they did. Yet now, Michael felt that now, the script had to be cast aside, because this time, this time... Things had gone too far for even him to agree. He stood above it all, he was above all over it. Now though, one so close had fallen to such decrepit, such foul acts. Someone he had trusted, believed in. Someone who he had truly thought that there to serve and not betray. Michael felt ill at the prospect that someone so close to him, had been so corrupt and burnt out. He clenched his fists, as more angels gathered around him. Raphael was there too, but he appear calmer. 'There was nothing we could have done to prevent this.' He said, solemnly, like it made difference to their brother. Michael felt sicker still, as he reminded himself who he had sent to punish his sibling. 'Raphael, am I fit to lead?' he questioned, only within ear-shot of his fellow arch-angel. Raphael took his time to answer, only opening his mouth after enough time had passed.

'In these situations, brother. No one is fit to lead. We can only take it as it comes.' They were waiting for the betrayer to return. They waited for him to return with the baby brother he had so gravely violated. 'How could we not see? We, the Arch-Angels. The first angels of God, how could we not see...' Raphael stayed silent. Gabriel was there too, but only his older brothers saw him. Michael was silently pleased Gabriel had shown for this. 'Gabriel... Thank you.' he said, trying to remain as professional as he could. Gabriel however, looked furious. His eyes showed nothing but raw anger, he was shaking, he was gripping himself. 'I've been waiting for this.' he said, his voice sharp, and gruff.

He heard the angels whispering, others claiming things that they had no understanding of. He and Gabriel knew though. Something was horribly wrong, and Zachariah had the answer. Before he was able to say another word. The most desperate words he'd ever heard from an Angel was spoken over their link.

'Big Brother, save me.'

Only Michael seemed to hear it though, he recognised the words, the voice. It was Castiel. Castiel was never that desperate to use the words, Big Brother. It was wrong, it was out of his character, it could not be his brother speaking. Who was it though? If not his sibling, who had that voice? In a split second decision, he followed the voice. He appeared before it, in a vessel that would not last that long. He saw it before he even had time to gather his surroundings. The smile of his subordinate, the one he'd trusted with his True Vessel's protection. The one who had made his sibling, so very... ,very desperate. 'Zachariah, you dare show yourself before me, smiling?' He spat, his anger evident.

His rage was unmatched, as the smile was ever present. What excuses would he spin? What words would he use to make this Castiel's fault. He would not listen, he could not listen. 'Michael, did you know Castiel has disobeyed? Did you know the unlawful things he has done? He has indulged himself with Alcohol, with food. He has fallen, farther and farther...' Michael wanted to hear none of it, and yet he listened. He gave him a chance, yet words from the Winchesters, Gabriel, even his own observations. He didn't know who to trust. Who to believe. He clenched his vessel's hands tightly.

'… Punished as I saw fit.'

Punished? The violation his brother endured not once, no... not even twice. The humiliation and violation his brother felt three times was punishment? What type of vile creature would ever say that, to a sibling... about a younger one. 'He is our brother. We punish, yes. Sometimes it is cruel, but we are all brothers, and yet you do something so foul to one? A younger one no less. What possible words can you use to defend your vile existence?!' He was furious now. He felt it, he felt it everywhere. He felt it in his memories of his baby brother crying hopelessly in his arms. He felt it in his grace, his mind, his very core. He felt his anger, his despair and his confusion. Who could do something like this to their own? Sodomy, not only sodomy no. Fellatio as well, a demeaning, depowering movement. He felt sickened, by this creature standing before him, this monster he had called a brother, an angelic being whom he had trusted his vessel too. A thought struck him, and he didn't want it to be true, but he had to ask. He saw Zachariah's lips were moving, but he didn't care. He needed to know.

'Did you do this decrepit action to Dean Winchester as well?'

Zachariah's facial expression went from joyful to disgusted. 'I have taste.' He said spitefully, his eyes overshadowed with whatever drove his mind. Michael felt he had heard enough, but was unable to move closer to the disgusting thing in front of him. 'Please, Michael. Are you really going to smite me? Your most loyal servant?' He wasn't loyal though. He was decrepit. He was filthy. He was a liar and a thief. He practically made his brother the Pariah. 'You forced him from us. We lost a brother because of you!' he felt his anger rise, and he took a step towards him, and then another. He needed to reach the grinning madman standing in front of him. He needed to tare that smile from his lips, rip it to pieces.

It was over faster than he had wanted it to be.

Too fast for his taste, but it was done the minute his vessel's hand touched the vile servant's head. 'You served me too well.' He hissed, his grace crawling as he realised he touched Zachariah's grace before he died. He felt... disgusting. Perhaps are muddied as his subordinate had been. Flicking his hand, he stared at the burn out body. He wished he could reanimate the grace, just so he could kill him again. That was not controlled however, that was not what Michael was. He straightened himself out and kept a straight face. As he was about to return, he heard a shuffle behind him and saw Castiel, looked both frightened and happy to see him.

'Brother.' he whispered, trying to keep a straight face.

'Did he hurt you again?' He asked as gently as he could. He really didn't want to answer, but felt himself slightly obligated to at least ask, as it was his fault that it had happened so many times. 'The fault lies with me, Sibling. Do not feel the need to report directly to me anymore. If you find it preferable to report to Gabriel or another Angel above your rank do so, and they will speak to me.' Castiel however shook his head, and bowed himself slightly. 'I serve only you Michael.' His words were soft, perhaps worried, but the older Angel felt himself get enveloped by gratitude. 'I thank thee for ye forgiveness, Brother.' He whispered, disappearing into the sky, the vessel burning up just as he did.

Castiel stood there alone, as if waiting for something. His phone rang. He took it out and answered it stoically, yet his face betrayed his emotions. Because tears that could be interpreted as joy began to well at his eyes. 'Yes, Dean?' he whispered, trying to hide what he had just witnessed. The words of Dean Winchester rang through his head, and at this point in time, they were the most comforting words he had ever heard.

‘Dude, demons, help. Please! Kinda need your angel Mojo!’


	18. Chapter 18

It was over, he was safe, he could protect himself now. He was safe. Safe, strong, powerful. He was strong. So why couldn't he find Amhi? Where was Amhi? He needed her to see, he was strong again. He could protect everyone again. She was gone though. Castiel couldn't find her anywhere. No heaven looked like her's, smelt like her's or felt like her's. Her soul was not in any heaven's either.

Castiel was alone, in his home.

He wanted to scream, tear at the ground. He kept his face stoic though, and appeared before Dean and Sam. He would say nothing, not even breath in their direction. His mind was focused on one thing, only one. “AmhiAmhiAmhiAmhiAmhi” He had to find her, she wasn't allowed to leave like that. He needed her to know he was safe again, so she would be safe. Heaven was safe again because of him. He was safe, he could protect them. He was powerful, he was God, he was a new God. Amhi had to know, he had to tell her. He was frantic, on the inside. Outside he was quiet, blank. A computer without a program. He was new, special and powerful. Castiel could save them all.

He didn't move though, as he suddenly stood on the side of the road. He was confused. How was he here? What was here? Amhi? 'Amhi!' He suddenly screamed. He felt his tongue fail him. The word didn't roll of his tongue right. It sounded like Amy. Her name wasn't Amy, it was Amhi. It was Mother. Mother. She was a mother. He had to show Mother how strong he had become. He could protect her.

Where was Mother?

His brain etched at his memories. He tried to focus, to appear before her, but nothing happened. She eluded his powers. Was she running away? Didn't Amhi like him now? Did she want him weak? Did she want him to fall victim!? He felt fury, he had to find her now. He had to punish her, to teach her a lesson. He was a merciful God, but they had to earn it. Amhi, feared, him. That had to be corrected. He could show her that he was not to be feared. He'd show her the compassion she had deserved when she lived. He knew her, Castiel knew her. He knew how to keep her safe.

He's saw her everywhere. Her burning hair, and eyes like irish fields. He knew her, he knew her, he knew her. He knew her first. They could not take her away from him. She was his. His Amhi. Heaven would never, ever take Amhi from him. The voice in his brain hummed constantly, whispering the name of the mother, 'AmhiAmhiAmhiAmhiAmhi.' Over and over again, burning a his eyes and making him want to lie down. The pain was immense. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Why did he feel so ill? His skin, his vessels skin, what happened...

He saw her, he saw Amhi! The scream that followed that thought was violent and frightened. He had to protect her. She was scremaing. She was afraid. It was the only reason. He had to protect. His head seared at him and he dropped Amhi. No... No! He dropped Amhi! No! Where? Where, where, where, where? He was frantic, he had to save her, he had to save Amhi, his Amhi, his precious, precious. Dean... Sam? Who were they? Who was screaming their names? Who... was Jimmy?

Amhi, she lies on the ground. Why is she crying though? 'I'm protecting you!' I'm protecting you I promise. No! Away from the window! Amhi stop you'll fall! Stop it! Stop! 'Do not hurt yourself!' Wide eyes, why aren't they green? Amhi's eyes are green. 'What did you do to yourself? Where are your eyes?' They are supposed to be green! Stop screaming! Who hurt you? Why aren't your eyes green? Sirens... police. They... 'Are they hunting you? Are they the ones scaring you, Amhi?'

'My name isn't Amy!'

AmhiAmhiAmhiAmhiAmhi. Amy?...

'You're called Amhi! You're called Amhi!, Mother, you're a mother, you have green eyes. Bright firey hair, kindness... So kind. Where are you, mother?' AmhiAmhiAmhiAmhiAmhi. 'Shut up, stop, stop she's okay, she's safe I'm protecting her.' He's protecting her, He's protecting her. The sound of guns being released makes him freeze. He can feel his body preparing to be hit. Amhi has been hit already , she's bleeding. Did they shoot her? Why did they shoot Amhi? His... his Amhi? They were hunting her?

Blood...

'Why is there blood on my hands?' The police stumble as he turns to face them. He is a merciful God. He will protect. He will make them repent. Where is Amhi? 'Sir, I must ask you to stand down and let us save the girl behind you.' Amhi, her name is Amhi. 'Amhi.' The police offers look shocked as he staggers towards them. 'Her name is not Amy. Her name is Cassidy, she is not called Amy.' Amy? Why is everyone saying Amy? It's Amhi. Amhi! 'Amhi. Not... Amy. Am-Hi.' He pronounces it softly, he sees one of the police officers holding up his hands. 'Amhi? Hindu right?' Was it? He didn't know. He knew it meant mother though. Amhi was a mother. 'Mother...' he whispers, his body shaking. 'She's a mother.' The police officer nods his head. 'Is she your mother? Or is she your baby's mother?' He's confused. His mother? Castiel only has a father, no mother. He has... no children. 'No.' The police officer looks worried. 'What is your name?' He tries, his gun being put away. 'I...' His name? Clarence wasn't right, it couldn't be Clarence. Why would he be called Clarence? What sense did that make?

'Deus.' He whispers. The police officer nods, 'Deus. Latin for God right? Like the Game Deus Ex?' Game? What game? Was this a game? Was Amhi not bleeding? He turned. Amhi was bleeding, she was dying. He had to heal her. He bent backwards, his arm leaning out to touch her wounds, heal her pain, her fear. 'Deus! Deus look at me, don't touch her okay? The paramedics are on their way. Talk to me, Deus. Why did you snatch her?' Did he take her? Didn't Amhi want saving? 'I can save her... I can heal her.' He tried, he was trying, why weren't they listening. Amhi was dying, they weren't listening!

'Vanish.'

Silence. The dust didn't even move. Amhi gasped next to him, tears streaming down her face. The wound wasn't made by a bullet. It was long. Deep. Silver... Silver? He looked down at his bloody hand, confused by the bloody blade in his hands. 'Why?' AmhiAmhiAmhiAmhiAmhi. His Amhi.

Amhi?

Why isn't she breathing? Amhi! Amhi! 'Amhi! Wake up!' The world is moving. He didn't tell it to move, he didn't let it. Why is it moving. Why is everything white? Stop. Shut up. Shut up! 'Stop screaming!' People gasp at him, he's in pain. His head hurts, why are they all staring. Where's Amhi? 'Sir... Sir, can we take that girl?' Take... Amhi? Is it Amhi? Brown Hair, dark, grey... lifeless eyes. 'She's not... Amhi.' He vanishes with that. He's scared, he's confused. Where... where was Amhi?


End file.
